


A Request

by kittybenzedrine



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Unspecified Point In Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 17:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12173280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: Geralt's life is contract after contract. The same rhythm put to a different dance every time.Sometimes he takes contracts so out of the ordinary they he can't help but feel a little dazed over it.





	A Request

Geralt's silver sword is still covered in gore. His face, beard, and tunic are all speckled with blood. It's in his gloves, too. A new scar mares his cheek, still red and raw from the rapid healing. He looks something frightening, like a proper Witcher covered in the horror of the creatures he's killed.

But still, the little girl from town approaches him. With a skip in her step and a smile on her little dimpled face, nonetheless.

"Mister Witcher? You take contracts, right?" she asks, giddy in her little dirt stained dress, bouncing in her tiny shoes with the uncontrolled energy of a child. She can't be any older then six. Cute as a button, whatever that means.

"Yes, I do," he tells her. Perhaps her parents have sent her.

She sticks her small hand into the pocket of her dress and digs in it. "Can I give you a contact? I got a crown and everything!" True to her word, the little girl pulls the gold coin out of her pocket and holds it up to him, positively beaming with the big smile on her face.

Amused, he asks, "What kind of contract?"

"Pick blowball with me! Mummy loves blowball tea, but she ain't got time to pick none! And I'm not very fast, and she didn't have enough leafs to have tea through the winter this time. And if I wait too long, the blowball will turn white and yucky and not yellow, and yellow is the best for tea!" She prattles on and on like children do, still holding the coin up to him.

So he finds himself on his knees in a field on the outskirts of town, keeping a watchful eye as he helps her fill up two buckets with blowball. The coin is tucked into a front pocket of his trousers.

The child is happy enough. Geralt remembers when Ciri was like this. A little older than this child, but most children were talkative and eager until around the age of 12. Happy for all the attention in the world and over excited for someone to play with them.

He teaches her how to pick the flowers without tearing the leaves off after she destroys about a dozen. When she loses track of picking the flowers for tea, she makes a little flower crown of them. It's held together with crude little knots in the stems, but it's cute enough and keeps her distracted while he fills the buckets up for her.

She throws handfuls of grass at him. She puts her crown on him. She touches his hair and marvels at the color "cause white hair only happens on old people and you look my Daddy's age!" She's a mischievous little shit, but Geralt finds a bit of fondness deep in his chest watching the little child as she goes up the small hill, rolls down, and does it over and over.

Both handles of the buckets fit just fine in the crook of one elbow and she leads him to her home with his other hand. Her mother is outside tending to their laundry, and visibly pales when she sees her daughter leading a blood spattered Witcher to their home.

The girl lets go of his hand and gives the same big, beaming smile to her mother. Slowly, as to not startle her, Geralt sets both buckets at the woman's feet.

"Your girl here said you like blowball tea, but never have enough for all of winter. Asked me to help her pick you some." Turning his attention back to the girl, he pulls the coin out of his pocket and drops to his knee to be eye level with her. "It's very kind what you did for your mother. But you give this back to her, it's not nice to steal from your parents."

It doesn't surprise him that the child shows no remorse as she passes the coin back to her mom. Even says sorry, but doesn't quite grasp why she should be. She throws her skinny arms around his neck before he can get up, and squeezes him tight. Geralt pats her lightly on the back.

"Thank you, mister Witcher!"

When she lets go, he raised to his feet and nods to her. He wishes her and her mother a good day, and gets back on the road to the next town. There's a pleasant buzz in his chest, even though the dried blood itches his skin, though his legs are weary from so much walking due to misplacing Roach. Hopefully he'll make it to town before dark. 

It was such a... A nice day, though. He won't mind if it's a little dark out when he arrives.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!
> 
> I have [my blog](http://iwillpooponthefloor.tumblr.com) on tumblr, if you'd like to check that out.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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